


Unfortunate happenings

by Jimmikins



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Baskerville - Freeform, Baskerville AU, Experiment!john, Experimentation, Fawnlock, M/M, Testing - Freeform, he came out seeming like that, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-13
Updated: 2013-05-19
Packaged: 2017-12-11 19:23:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/802293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jimmikins/pseuds/Jimmikins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John is an experiment made in Baskerville. He tries to escape...and meets someone along the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Baskerville

**Author's Note:**

> Its short, I'm sorry...next one will be longer, i promise

It was going to take a lot of courage. A lot of courage, planning, nearly pissing himself with fear, and more planning, waiting....

John doesn't know how long he's been here.

He feels as if he were born here- or created, at least. He didn’t know what the correct term would be. He didn’t know much, as it were; he learned the basics of speaking from listening in on the doctors, but it was still all very confusing to him. They usually kept him drugged, and in a metal cage. It was cold on his naked skin, and he hated it. Hated lying there, brain muddled and fuzzy, unable to fight them when they dragged him out for that days testing. And then there were the days where they didn’t drug him, and he tried to fight them and of course, lost. He was weak from malnutrition, they said, whatever that was supposed to mean. All he knew was that they barely fed him and he’d grown used to the consuming gnawing feeling in the pit of his belly, the aching feeling in his limbs as he was made to stand, weakly walking along.

He knew the place he was in was called “Baskerville”. He’d assumed from the other bits of information he caught onto that it was a testing facility, and that he was in the deeper parts, the most secure and secret. He wondered what the less highly guarded sections were like.

One day it got into his head to find a way out. He didn’t know what the outside world was like, but it had to be better than this, right? He looked around at all of the other experiments, subjected to the painful testing day in and day out, and decided yes, it must be, has to be. He dreamt of being outside, and... What then? What would he do when he was out? What if he was caught and brought back, or even worse, caught by someone even more sinister than these doctors? Is that sort of thing even possible? Occasionally he saw them shoot him sympathetic glances, full of pity, and sometimes they tried to make the tests as least painful as possible. Sometimes. And then other times they’d hit him when he struggled, drug him more, sedate him, or just beat the fight out of him. That last was rather rare, as it took longer and more work.

They called him “subject number 2431”, and he knew no other name for himself. He was just another subject. He felt that maybe that should bother him more, but this was who he was, how he was raised. This was…normality, to him, although somehow a part of him knew it shouldn’t be this way. He shouldn’t have to suffer.

The injected him with things, to enhance the natural abilities he was created with. He knew they didn’t make him normal- he looked slightly different from the doctors. He didn’t get to see a mirror very often, but he could feel his ears, the way they jutted away from his head and felt soft, unlike the doctors’. He felt the slightly fuzzy feel as he ran his fingers down his arm to fight the sanitary cold of the lab, felt the longer hairs as he rested his hands on his belly. And when he did get a chance to look into a mirror- well. He knew the doctors’ didn’t have such a coating of speckles on their faces, down their cheeks, covering their noses. His skin was several shades darker than most of theirs, and his lips didn’t have the reddish quality, just a lighter brown than the rest of him. There was a light dust of very short, fine hairs on his face as well. The speckles continued down his body, getting wider and lighter in colour as they went on. Not to mention his legs- definitely different. They were covered in coarse fur, dark brown, and his knees didn't bend forward, but backwards. He was a bit self conscious of them, to be honest, glancing around at the other subjects.

John thought he looked a sight better than most of the subjects. A lot of them were mutilated to the point of no recognition, and he’d been spared that….so far, at least.

The day would begin with a meal. If that’s what you’d call a piece of bread thrown into his cage; he had a bowl of water that he conserved, because it was only refilled every few days. John watched the familiar face of a woman doctor give him bread this morning, and he accepted it greedily. She was one of the ones who pitied him, and she gave him a little look before continuing on her way- one that he could almost deem as sad.

After eating he napped for a little while, to let the food settle in his stomach. His some-what peaceful nap was ruined, of course, when a doctor flung open his cage door and dragged him out into the lab. He didn’t bother to struggle, just shivered hard and observed the doctors cold stare as he was pulled into an experimentation room.

The following testing wasn’t so bad that day. He came out of it bloodied, but that was normal. After only a few hours he was put back into his cage, and he curled up to nurse his wounds and take another nap. He contemplated escape very little that day.

He still slept with a chill each day, slightly from the cold and slightly from fear; of both the following day and the thought of attempting to escape this place.


	2. Chapter two: a special vistor (because I am full of shitty chapter titles)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our hero Sherlock arrives

Today was off. Different. Odd.

John couldn't shake the feeling of...disruption, even as he laid down in his cage to sleep that night. His stomach was empty and it made him feel hollow, as he tried not to glance down at his sunken in middle. He knew that was bad. That was sick. He was. Sick. Unhealthy, they called it. Malnutrition. Won't last long.

He shut his eyes and listened to the silence of the lab. Wait. Silence. Listening to silence. Wrong.

Of course, there were the pained squeaks and chirps of the other subjects, the creaking of metal as they rolled about and shifted within their confines. Filthy confines, he thought, sniffing the air delicately, head tilted back.

John looked at the subject closest to him, a female, he thought. She didn't look like him at all, more closely resembling the woman doctors, minus the pristine white coat and clip board. Plus the stringy, dirtiness of her shoulder length brown hair, matted with what he could only guess was blood and who knows what else. She wasn't as dark as him, nearly pale, with dark eyes; he wasn't sure if he found her attractive or not, not sure if he found anything 'attractive'. She was nearly human looking, apart from the contraption on her neck; it held water, because she had gills on her throat. John wasn't sure what they were, just that they needed water constantly, and that it was something called an, "Amphibious trait". Her skin was smeared with blood and grime, and she was wearing something to cover herself. She was already asleep. They called her "Subject: 2431", but sometimes, alternatively, they would refer to her with, "Subject M".

He settled back onto his stomach; curling into a ball made his back ache these days.

John found he couldn't sleep. He tossed and turned, but it just wasn't happening. Then, he heard a noise.

It was loud, mainly because it broke the silence, but none of the other subjects woke. It sounded like a large bang, almost like...a door being forced open. He sat up- nearly slamming his head on the top of his cage, and looked around in worry. Was it a doctor? A scientist? Something worse?

It was a man. A human man, one he didn’t recognize. He pressed up against the back of the cage in fear, watching him slowly take in his surroundings, before rushing up to each cage, peering in at its contents with obvious excitement, not yet aware he was being watched by John. He was frightened, hoping he wouldn’t be noticed. But of course.

The next cage this man rushed to was Johns. He was surprised to see him awake, but it didn’t show much. Up close, John could see he was pale as anything, with curly dark locks framing his fair features. He pressed away as he reached inside of his cage.

“Don’t worry, I’m not here to harm you.” He muttered, wiggling his slender fingers at John.

“Who are you?” John hissed, “How did you get in here?”

The man sighed dejectedly and sat back. John almost felt bad. He might've, if the man had less of a gleam in his eye that most of the scientists had.

“Wasn’t hard. Just have to know a few codes, have the right card.” He explained. “My names Sherlock. You…probably don’t have a name. I’ll call you John. I think it fits you.”

John was flattered and confused. A name…but, he was always just subject number 2432! Not John. Not a human. Only humans have human names.

He shook his head. “Why? Why are you here?”  
“I was curious.” He answered obviously, as if that were an idiotic question not worth his time. John huffed indignantly. “But you…you look…so fascinating. Are those…horns?” he asked, motioning towards the top of Johns head.  
He looked down and worried his hands, nodding. “you shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be talking to you. You need to leave.”  
“I don’t want to.” He said, as if that made him being here perfectly okay. “I’m willing to help you.”  
John froze. Was this it? Was this an opportunity arriving, right in front of him? It must be a trap, he thought wearily.  
“No. I’m fine.”  
“I beg to differ.”  
“You don’t know anything.”  
“I know everything.”  
John was confused and waging a battle against himself inside his head. One side said trust him, the other said don’t.  
John looked at his sunken in torso. He nodded. “Okay.”  
Sherlock grinned.


End file.
